


Tell Me Your Name

by JaneDuJour



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, PWP, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDuJour/pseuds/JaneDuJour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written a few months ago for the following prompt at the Reservoir Dogs kink meme:<br/>[RPF] Harvey Keitel/Tim Roth, rimming<br/>A late night rehearsal for the death scene leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I would never do this... but I've spent a lot of time on film sets, I know all about inappropriate rehearsals, I have a lot of different feelings about method acting, and I love this movie. So I decided to correct my spelling mistakes and post it over here. Even though RPF makes me feel like a disgusting person. It was still fun to write.

When Tim woke to a gentle rapping at the door, he had to shake off the feeling that he was back home in England. And he wasn’t in his crap apartment in New York. And he wasn’t in his mediocre apartment in Hollywood. And he wasn’t on the floor of the warehouse passed out in a pool of cherry-flavoured stage blood, too sticky to peel himself away for a cup of coffee. He was in his trailer. And once he had his head wrapped around that, his next response was that he had no idea how long he’d been asleep or which scene he was supposed to be prepped for.

He stumbled to his feet, tripping on the shoes he forgot that he’d taken off, and swung open the plastic door. But it wasn’t the 2nd A.D. there to tell him he was due for blocking 20 minutes ago. It was just Harvey. One of those people who felt weirdly like home. Maybe because he’d been watching his films back in England. The man was nostalgic.

Tim exhaled.

“Hello,” said Harvey, as if he were surprised to see him there.

“Oh hey man, what time is it?” By the end of the sentence, he was American again.

“Past your bed time,” Harvey teased, tapping a rolled-up copy of the script in his palm. “I called your apartment but there was no answer. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Tim nodded, noting that it was dark out already, and stepped aside to let Harvey in. Now he remembered that they’d wrapped for the day. He didn’t remember deciding to sleep in his trailer though. He really wasn’t supposed to be there.

“I think the wardrobe department was looking for that,” Harvey remarked, taking a seat on the chair across from the narrow bed.

Tim looked down and realized that he was still Mr. Orange. “Fuck.” Then he saw the red smears on his pillow. “Everything I touch becomes a crime scene.”

“Spoken like a true method actor,” joked Harvey, sifting through the papers in his hand.

“Come on, you know I don’t buy into that shit,” he mumbled, catching Harvey’s eyes briefly. “No offense,” he offered, recalling that Harvey was of the Stanislavsky persuasion. To each his own. Tim sat down on the bed and loosened his tie. “How did you feel about today?”

Harvey nodded. “Good. You?”

“Pretty good.” He pulled the tie over his head.

“Good.”

“Oh hey, I love what you did with the uh...” Tim snapped his fingers, trying to remember what they shot that day, trying to come up with something nice and easy and casual to talk about. Easy and casual had been an extra effort ever since they started shooting in the warehouse. It had been a pretty fucking brutal week and every time they left the set he was having a harder and harder time shaking it off. He had to work constantly to keep it light so he wouldn’t sink into a black hole. “Your shit with Madsen,” he remembered. “That was tense.”

Harvey smiled politely. “Thanks.”

“I mean I didn’t see you, I just heard you, but it sounded really good.” Orange had been passed out for a couple days now, for the most part. “I’m basically set dec with a pulse these days.”

“The set dec still gets paid more than we do,” Harvey joked, and Tim smiled. “I know it’s not easy to do what you do all day,” Harvey continued without looking up from his script. “Being still like that? I’d be going nuts.”

“I am going slightly nuts, yeah,” Tim admitted. “I keep having these dreams that I’m dead.” Harvey met his eyes with what appeared to be concern, so he kept talking. “What did you want to see to me about? Everything cool?” He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Harvey-the-producer or Harvey-the-actor, though most of his work as a producer had been done long before they started shooting.

“I just wanted to get your take on the scene tomorrow.”

“I’m glad you said that.” He wasn’t glad. It was seriously uncomfortable and he preferred to just dive in hard and messy, and get right back out. Shit. He had to stop agreeing with everything Harvey said. “Sorry, but mind if I grab a shower first? I’m a bloody disaster.”

“By all means.”

“I’ll be super-quick.” Everything was super-everything now, when it wasn’t super-cool, and so it would be until it was time to pick up different obnoxious phrases from another script and forget about this one. But he had a feeling that this was going to be one of those projects that really got inside him. It was already different.

He got up and closed himself into the tiny bathroom, stripping down quickly with the moves he’d choreographed to avoid bumping his elbows on anything, and then he slipped into the Roth-sized shower.

He never really exhaled all day until the weak stream hot water hit him, finally able to scrub away Orange and crawl back into his own skin. The problem was that he was having a hard time remembering who he was these days. He almost never left the set, and he absolutely never stopped thinking or talking about work. He didn’t know which continent he belonged to. He hadn’t seen his friends in... he couldn’t even remember. There weren’t really that many of them and it shouldn’t have felt like a chore. The music he listened to was exclusively prescribed by Quentin. When he did make it out to see a movie or have a drink, it was always with cast or crew. Being that they were in a movie town, people often recognized him when they saw him (even more often than in New York or back home), and through their eyes he was someone other than himself again. ‘You’re American – _how_ and _why_ did you see that film?’ he wanted to ask, every time. Temporary financial stability was a relief that almost forgave his utter lack of existence outside his films. When people looked at him, he knew they were seeing someone who didn’t really exist. ‘You were great in _this_. I loved you in _that_.’ _Here_ and _now_ were abstract concepts.

Harvey had advised him that it would get much worse if he kept up the good work. But Harvey saw who he was rather than who he was pretending to be. Maybe that’s why the man felt like home. The kind of home he had to make for himself... not the kind he had as a child. A lot of the actors he worked with were competitive by nature. ‘What have you done?’ ‘Who are you with?’ ‘Where did you train?’ ‘What are you doing next?’ He hated answering those questions. He hated feeling evaluated and sized up by people who he wanted to consider equals. On the other hand, Harvey Keitel had every right to brag if he wanted to. He was a real American movie star. But instead of pestering Tim about his history and his future, engaging in that discrete contest of who could drop a bigger name, he literally took Tim under his wing and held him there, respecting him as an equal and a friend. And he was always, always honest. A good listener. Able to give and take ideas without wasting time to consider whose opinion was more valuable. When he talked about work, it was to the point and never indulgent. All his charming anecdotes about life were just that... about life outside of the industry. The man had certainly lived.

Maybe that was Tim’s problem. He didn’t have another life.

He turned off the water, briskly-shampooed hair hanging in his eyes. The length used to irritate him but he kept it that way to look younger. There were times when he enjoyed hiding behind it.

Tomorrow was the death scene. Of course on this film, every day was a death scene for _someone_ , but theirs was The Death Scene. It was the punch line that lived up to its punch. So far they’d been getting on really well. Harvey was easy to work with. He was raw and vulnerable, totally open with not an ounce of judgement. It was every actor’s dream to work with someone so totally unafraid like that. Maybe it was simply in the nature of the scenes they had together, but there was a profound trust between them. He couldn’t have done the job without that. He was actually a little surprised by what Harvey was pulling out of him, making it look like Tim was responsible for all his own choices.

Once he’d toweled himself off he realized he hadn’t taken his clean clothes from that morning into the bathroom with him. Reluctantly, he wrapped the towel around his waist and slipped back into the little den of the trailer. 

Harvey was lounging on the bed now, scribbling a little note on his script. He barely glanced up at Tim as he began to hang his Orange wardrobe in the sliver of a closet.

“This scene is full of contradictions,” Harvey noted aloud. “But it’s real, right? It’s good.”

“Right,” Tim agreed, pulling out the clothes he’d worn to work that morning. “Loyalty, betrayal... they’re both equally true but yeah, contradictory.”

“Let’s play with the contradictions,” suggested Harvey. “Come over here a minute. Just stay like that, don’t get dressed.” He tucked the script underneath his thigh.

Tim’s arm was halfway into his shirtsleeve when he paused. “I see where this is going and I’m not going to _expose_ myself to you,” he jested, even as he slipped his shirt back off his arm, replacing it on the hanger in the closet. It was only a half-joke. If Harvey wanted him to touch down into his own vulnerability for the sake of character work, he would indulge him. Made sense. Couldn’t hurt. He tightened the towel around his skinny waist and regarded the narrow bed that Harvey had settled onto so comfortably, seeming to take up as much space as possible. “Where do you want me?”

“Same as usual. Is that okay with you?”

Of course it was okay. Even if it wasn’t, it still would have been. But: “There’s no space,” was the honest truth. “I don’t really know the blocking yet.” And then: “I’m kinda tired.” All disclaimers as to why he was about to do a bad job.

“Let’s just talk this through,” Harvey suggested, his body still totally open. “It’s a big one to dive into cold tomorrow.”

Even though Tim did kind of prefer to ‘dive in cold’ in cases like these, he didn’t want his hesitation to expose his insecurity, so he walked over and bent one knee against the foot of the mattress. In the draft he’d read originally, White dumped Orange onto a mattress instead of that ramp he now called home. He still wasn’t sure exactly why that set piece had disappeared, but knowing it had been there at some point made it a little easier to climb onto the bed with Harvey.

“I feel like Orange wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye for this,” Tim said. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but Harvey helped him settle in between his legs with confident, guiding hands. Tim had spent enough time in Harvey’s lap now that it was pretty comfortable. His jeans and t-shirt felt completely different from the suit, though. Especially now that Tim’s back was bare. If vulnerability was what Harvey was getting at, he got to it.

“I think it could go either way,” said Harvey, resting his hand on Tim’s head. “We’ll see what our man says tomorrow. But I think I agree with you there, the eye contact is a bit much at this point.”

“Contradictions,” Tim reminded him, not trying to rush it but wanting to get some sleep eventually.

“Yes. So... here’s my thinking.” His thumb traced back and forth across Tim’s forehead absently, like it was normal. “White draws his gun.” Harvey lay his fist across Tim’s chest. “What’s your response to that? You, as Tim, what would you do?”

“Run away,” he admitted, staring at the mini refrigerator across the little room, wondering if there was anything left to eat in it. Not seeing Harvey’s face in this position really had a different feeling from their earlier scenes together. “Or if I was shot fulla holes, roll away I guess.”

“But this relationship is full of contradictions, so?” Harvey pressed his index and forefingers into Tim’s cheek like it was the gun. But a gun was cold and Harvey was warm.

“He doesn’t wanna run,” Tim mumbled, feeling incredibly tired and far too comfortable. “He feels the gun and... Hm.” He reaches his arms up and back, clasping his hands down on Harvey’s thick, firm biceps. “He asks for it.” Tim ran a hand down Harvey’s arm and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, pressing the finger-gun harder to his cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” Harvey said, still stroking Tim with his thumb, probably oblivious to how soothing the simple gesture was. Harvey dropped his invisible gun and picked up a piece of paper, holding it at Tim’s chest so they could both read. It was the last page.

Tim read aloud: “ _Mr. White looks up, smiles, and pulls the trigger._ ”

“I don’t see White smiling about this, do you?”

Tim shook his head. “Well,” he added suddenly, just to play the devil’s advocate. “It’s filmic. I can see it...” Harvey was right. “But I don’t feel it, no.”

“Unless he’s completely fucking insane, it makes no sense. He’s been very emotionally honest so far. I mean, smiling about this is a contradiction that just doesn’t jive for me.”

“Are you telling me we get tears tomorrow?” Tim grinned, fighting the urge to look back and up at Harvey’s face. “Shall I bring my umbrella?”

“You’ll get what you get and you’ll deal with it,” Harvey assured him.

Tim laughed. It was true. He would deal with whatever Harvey threw at him, and the man knew it.

“I think he really loves this kid.” Harvey sent the sheet of paper floating to the floor.

“I know he does,” Tim said, fighting a yawn. “The feeling’s mutual.” He dropped his arms and clasped his hands over his stomach. The rise and fall of Harvey’s chest behind him was easy to get used to.

“I thought you’d be more inclined to leave it at respect.” He spoke as if the nature of their characters’ bond wasn’t common knowledge.

Tim shrugged. “Respect doesn’t make you suicidal,” he pointed out. “Does Orange really think White’s going to do it?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Orange. Do you think I intend to shoot?” Harvey was playing with pronouns, but he wasn’t doing White. He was still just Harvey.

“Yes,” said Tim. He brought his arms back up around Harvey again to see how it felt. He was an anchor. “But it doesn’t matter as long as it’s Harvey’s decision. I mean _White’s_ decision. Whatever.” He reluctantly tilted his head back and looked up at Harvey when the man didn’t give him a response right away.

“There’s a difference, kiddo.” Harvey’s eyes narrowed a little in what appeared to be equal parts amusement and concern.

“I guess.”

Harvey laughed. “If you don’t see the difference between me and Mr. White, we may have a problem.”

“I guess I forgot.” Tim sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. He let go of Harvey once more but before he could roll away, a warm hand touched his forehead, wiping his damp hair from his eyes. He settled back against Harvey’s chestagain and eliminated the silence with the first thing that came to mind. “Can I ask you something.”

“Yeah.”

Tim hesistated briefly. “Do you ever lose track of yourself?”

“You mean being in the moment? In a scene?”

“No...” Tim was ready to spill but he managed to hang on. The project was almost over. He’d be fine soon. “Forget it, nevermind.”

“Get it out.” Harvey spoke in that stern yet open voice that was impossible to debate. He slid down a little, getting more comfortable, his jaw making contact with the side of Tim’s head.

Tim chewed his lip a moment, looking down at his bare feet in between Harvey’s shoes. “I don’t know when I’m me and when I’m not.” He felt like he was on autopilot. “When my thoughts are my own. I’m not even sure if I’m really here. I know I am, physically, but...”

“Well that’s Orange’s dilemma, isn’t it? In part?” He continued to stroke Tim’s hair leisurely as he moved his other hand down to his arm.

“It’s not just this movie though, it’s the whole acting thing.” He tried to laugh it off, like he knew he was being cranky and ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake it. “I literally don’t know who I am.” Tim wanted it to be a more difficult confession to make, but he was tired and they had been through too much to hold back at this point.

“I know who you are.” His voice was too low and steady to be anything other than true.

Shit. Did he really? “Other than an actor.”

“Yeah.” Harvey sighed deeply, his chest expanding and collapsing behind Tim’s shoulders. “Okay. I’m not trying to downplay what you’re going through, but you can _use_ this. I mean, being an actor isn’t who you are, it’s just a thing you do. Just like Orange being a cop. It has certain implications. That’s all.” His hand moved up and tightened below Tim’s shoulder, obviously sensing that it was the kind of conversation he might try to walk away from.

“But, so then... why would he tell White at a pivotal moment? Why would he tell him something that’s going to get him killed if it’s not really who he is?” Was he overthinking it? The scene was going to be stale tomorrow if he kept going like this. He already knew the answers to his silly questions anyway. “It feels right, but I just don’t know, when I start thinking about it, do I really understand it?”

“Come on.” He gave Tim’s arm a squeeze. “I know you know this stuff.” Harvey was clearly trying to be patient. “Stop backtracking.”

“If you know, and you know that I know, then what the fuck are we doing this for?” Tim shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just really tired and I don’t wanna suck the life out of the scene. I wanna to stop thinking now. I have to get some sleep. I can’t work on the scene tonight, I’m really sorry.” He covered his face with his hands and felt himself fade into Harvey’s body despite every effort to move in the other direction.

“Why are you sorry?” His hand on Tim’s arm was gentle, but heavy and encouraging.

“I can’t be fake right now. I can’t do the acting thing. I need to just... stop being an actor for a second.”

Harvey chuckled. “For someone who doesn’t like method work, it sure likes you.”

“Right.” Tim laughed weakly. “My role is a metaphor for my life. Genius. Never occurred to me.” It had, in fact, been the reason he’d campaigned for the role. It was easy to forget about that when it started getting really real. He’d asked for this.

“You said it, not me,” Harvey teased defensively.

“Whatever.” He tried to find the strength to peel himself away, but he couldn’t. “I’ll buy the metaphor, just don't shoot me now that you've figured me out.” Truth be told, he might let him.

“Nah.” Harvey smiled against Tim’s hair. “I figured you out a long time ago. No surprises.”

“You don’t think I could surprise you?” Tim was uncomfortable with that, even though a part of him was itching to test it. He didn’t like that someone else seemed to know more about him than he knew about himself. Somehow Harvey knew he was okay with being held for no good reason. More than okay... maybe Harvey knew he needed it. Shit. Who the hell was he going to talk to after they wrapped in a few days?

“That’s not to say you aren’t a complex and interesting character,” Harvey amended generously. “I’m just saying, I’ve been down this road. You’ll figure it out.”

“I just don’t know what I want.”

“Yes you do.” Harvey voice was a note above a whisper. His hand was still in Tim’s hair, the other at his arm, but they had stilled. He was holding him there so confidently that Tim wondered if he would let him get up and walk away if he chose to. But why would he want to walk away?

Tim almost stopped himself as he unclasped his hands, then almost stopped himself again when he placed one hand over Harvey’s.

Yes, this blocking did make the difficult choices easier. If Quentin put them face to face tomorrow, he would have to turn away.

A chill crawled through his guts as Harvey slowly pulled his hand out from under Tim’s. That was inevitable. Tim sat up to give him some space, but Harvey’s fingers twisted tightly into his damp hair before he could stand. With his free hand, Harvey made a finger-gun, pointing it right at his bare chest. The fingertips against his chest might as well have been a real gun because suddenly Tim felt like he was in trouble. Shit, he’d made it weird. He shouldn’t have touched his hand like that, it was too much.

“I’m bigger than you,” Harvey stated. Tim wanted to find it funny, but it wasn’t.

“I know that.” Tim felt like a wet noodle next to Harvey Keitel. Intellectually, he knew Harvey wanted to intimidate him as a tactic. Maybe the discussion had come too easily for the actor’s liking. Maybe he wanted a little more tension, more debate. Tim understood Harvey’s method, why he was trying to disarm him, but it didn’t make the uneasy feeling any less real.

“I may not have a loaded gun, but I could hurt you if I wanted to.” He gave Tim’s hair a short tug, making him blink with a start. “Very easily.”

“I – I know,” Tim stammered. “I get it.” For the first time since they’d started working together, Tim tried to pull away, genuinely.

But he couldn’t. So he sat there on the edge of the cot with his pulse racing beneath the man’s fingertips.

“I’m under the impression that you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Yes I am,” Tim snapped. “Christ. I told you, I get it, will you let me get dressed already?” Tim wasn’t sure if he was trying to get angry, but his voice came out thin and uncertain.

“You and I may have a comfortable working relationship, but we are two very different people. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Tim just nodded. Harvey was making a point about their characters. It was his own goddamn fault for calling Harvey by his character name. It was very generous, what the man was giving him now, but it wasn’t easy to know what to do with it. Without anything left to offer, he said it again: “I’m sorry.”

_I’m a cop. I’m so sorry, Larry._

Tim watched the scene play out in his head. He was so deep inside his own mind in that moment that he didn’t realize it at first when Harvey’s hand-gun dissolved, and his fingers moved around his arm instead. Tim sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth when Harvey tugged a handful of his hair, but his instinct was to ask for more – not to stop it.

Of course. There it was.

“Okay, okay,” Tim sighed, his neck straining against the grip in his wet hair. “You win.” Fucking method actors.

Harvey pulled him closer. “What do I win?”

Tim swallowed hard, wondering when Harvey was going to drop the act. The man’s grip only tightened, their eyes locked together so hard that Tim had to close his before... he wasn’t even sure what. Before something bad happened. Before he saw something he couldn’t handle.

“Why are you doing this,” Tim managed to ask, just above a whisper.

Harvey didn’t respond right away. “Because now I know that you want me to.”

Before Tim could form an opinion about what he was hearing, gasped loudly in utter surprise, pulling away reflexively when he felt lips brush his throat.

“Whoa.” Tim tensed up all over, the little hairs on his arms standing on end. He blinked his eyes open... then immediately relaxed into what could have been considered an embrace to the untrained eye, despite nearly a foot of space between them. Harvey’s hands at his thigh and in his hair were steady, but hungry.

“I’m just messing with you,” Harvey spoke quietly, his voice a little rough. “You know that, right?”

Tim nodded. Then shook his head. He didn’t know what he knew anymore, but he knew that this wasn’t normal. Even for actors.

“I lost my senses back there,” Tim confessed, unable to place the vague familiarity of his own words. “But I’m fine now. I get it, all of it, don’t worry. I’m just... stressed. But I’m not confused.”

Harvey pushed Tim’s damp hair back from his forehead again, just helping himself. It was that shameless confidence that drew Tim in even deeper. But then the hand cupped his face and froze, as if Harvey was catching himself.

“You’ve got to tell me to back off.” Harvey, as usual, was pretending to be less generous than he really was. He was giving Tim the opportunity to put an abrupt end to this behaviour without feeling he was letting anyone down. He could obey the verbal cue or he could obey the physical cue. It was Tim’s choice and Harvey wasn’t giving him space to be wrong. “Just say the words. Tell me to stop.”

Tim shook his head. They couldn’t stop now.

Harvey’s hand was around the back of his neck suddenly, pulling him in, pressing their mouths together. It was eager and natural. Tim couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a man but he knew it had never felt this good or right. There was no clumsiness in the way their lips slid together for the first time. Tim dipped his head away for a moment, catching the breath that had rushed out of him, but even as little as the tip of Harvey’s nose touching his cheek pulled him back into the kiss, deeper and wetter.

Tim felt he should say something responsible, or slow down at the very least. Harvey had a lady, although that was as good as finished, from what little Tim knew. He wanted to say that this would make working together difficult, but he knew they could deal with it. They had already established a certain level of intimacy, so what was a few more nudges?

Once his hand found Harvey’s firm chest and felt his heart slamming against his palm, that was it. No questions. No answers. Just the two of them.

He tore at Harvey’s shirt, hardly willing to break away from his lips long enough to peel the fabric over his head. He wanted to touch him and see him. Their bodies were so complimentary.

“You’re really built,” Tim murmured, running his fingers over the man’s firm, smooth chest once he had stripped him of his t-shirt. The first time he saw _Taxi Driver_ , it was impossible not to imagine how Jodi Foster must have felt with those big, solid arms wrapped around her. It was a novel thought, but he was far from star-struck, despite the fact that this person had given one of the performances that made him want to become an actor. That was years ago. Here and now, this was just Harvey... the generous, warm, hardworking guy he was doing a gig with. Surely it didn’t matter that his heart was about to explode from his chest under the tender, needy caress of his hands and lips. They were having some fun. No big deal.

“I like the way _you’re_ built,” Harvey told him with a genuine admiration.

“Ah fuck, Harvey... I must be outta my mind,” Tim stammered, straddling Harvey’s lap as the man guided his thighs and peeled his towel away. Tim was loosely aware that he’d lost his American accent again but he didn’t bother trying to find it.

“You and me both,” said Harvey. His mouth was all over Tim’s chest, tonguing his nipples, arms sliding around his back. “You’re so sexy...”

“Shut up.” Tim turned his face away with a short laugh when he felt it redden with annoyance, his hair falling into his eyes.

“I know you don’t know it. It’s true.” Harvey’s hand came up to his cheek to bring him down nose to nose again. “Remember that night after your non-audition? You wouldn’t read the scene so Quentin started getting you drunk...”

Tim laughed, spreading his fingers across Harvey’s shoulders. “Yeah. You got pissed off and left.”

Harvey shook his head with an amused grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “I had to get out of there. You get pretty damn friendly when you drink and I just...” Any airy laugh burst out of him. “I had to leave.”

Tim felt his smile fade a little, but the muscle in his chest only pounded away at his ribs even harder. It was strange. Finding himself naked in Harvey’s lap had come on somewhat spontaneously for him. Perhaps it put them on level ground though. Harvey had wanted him since they met, if he understood correctly, but Tim had been admiring the other man on screen for over ten years, with absolutely no real fantasy of knowing him personally.

Tim quieted his mind and moved his fingers to the belt at Harvey’s jeans.

“What makes you feel good?” Harvey asked. He was so focused on Tim that he barely seemed to notice when his belt and fly were open, making no attempt to help Tim slide them off.

“This. You.” Tim leaned in to press a kiss beneath Harvey’s jaw.

“Mm.” Harvey laced his fingers through Tim’s hair, encouraging more of the attention he was getting from the lips and tongue at his neck. “What else? Tell me what you’re into, I’ll make it happen.”

“I... I’m up for anything.” If he was too indifferent Harvey would see through him, so he decided to be honest. “I don’t do this very often. What do you want?”

“I wanna fuck you till you scream,” Harvey groaned, seeming completely unbothered by Tim’s lack of experience with this kind of situation. His hands trailed down to squeeze Tim’s ass.

Tim drew in a deep, shaky breath, almost painfully hard now, leaking all over the man’s rough jeans.

“Shit, Harvey. I think there’s people around...” As soon as he said it he hoped it was taken at face value and not a rejection to the idea as a whole. Harvey’s words made him feel weak and crazy and he wanted it so bad. He wasn’t sure how he felt about doing it in his trailer though, at work.

“We’re all alone,” Harvey assured him, running his hands up and down Tim’s thighs. “We can take this elsewhere but you do realize you’re really gonna come to your senses as soon as you get some fresh air.”

“This isn’t an illusion,” Tim said, more to himself than to Harvey. “I really want you. Just not... here.” They were both going to have to make their way back home after anyway so why not do this comfortably? He leaned in and tasted Harvey’s mouth again, just for a moment. “Anyway, I don’t... have anything... in my trailer.”

When Harvey wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss once more, Tim knew that they could finish themselves off in under two minutes right then and there without much fuss, but he wanted more. He really did. And maybe one or both of them really would come to their senses somewhere along the way between the set and home but it was worth risking that for real privacy and a real bed. It was worth knowing if this was a choice that Tim and Harvey were making, or if it was only their characters and exhaustion eating away at their judgement.

Tim pressed his forehead to Harvey’s, zipped up the man’s pants and buckled his belt for him again. His fingers were craving the warm, hard flesh he hadn’t had a chance to experience yet. It wasn’t easy to walk away from this, even temporarily. Not just from Harvey, but from the intimacy he hadn’t had off-camera in a long time.

“You get dressed,” Harvey suggested as Tim crawled off his lap. “I’ll get a taxi.”

= = = 

Tim’s apartment wasn’t impressive by any means, but he needed to ground himself in some familiar territory, so that’s where they ended up. Neither of them had come to their senses in the meantime, thank god. With every passing minute he needed this even more. It was unexpected, but not surprising in the least.

He kept the lights out. Maybe a part of bringing Harvey to his place and keeping him in the dark was about a power shift. Nothing wrong with that. Tim locked the door, stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it aside as he walked across the apartment to his bedroom, feeling Harvey following close behind, pretending like it was routine –- like he did it all the time. But the second Harvey’s arm slid around his naked waist he knew he couldn’t fake it. All the nerves and fear and excitement and need crackled under the surface of his skin. There was something seriously wrong with them both for doing this but that made it even better, because they were both insane, together.

Tim turned around in Harvey’s arms and kissed him, feeling the man’s arms tighten around his body. The tip of Harvey’s tongue teased his lips, so he sucked it into his mouth. Harvey pushed up against him with a groan, walking him backwards until Tim felt his mattress on the back of his legs. He frantically unbuckled Harvey’s belt for the second time, popped the button of his jeans, unzipped him and pushed his jeans and briefs down over his hips. Before he could touch his flesh, Harvey shoved him onto the bed.

Tim pushed himself up on his elbows, toed off his shoes, and undid his own pants as he watched Harvey finish stripping his pants and briefs off. He suddenly regretted not turning a light on. Then Harvey knelt on the edge of the bed, dug his fingers into the waistband of Tim’s jeans and boxers, and tugged them down his legs. It only took a fraction of a second to adjust to the fact that he was naked in front of his producer and colleague. But fuck all that. This was a sexy older guy he was lucky enough to put his trust in and call a friend. 

Harvey crawled over him and kissed him rough on the mouth, grinding his hips down. Tim broke away with a moan when he felt how hot and hard Harvey was, then he found himself pushed down flat onto his back. He tried again to reach down and wrap his fingers around Harvey’s cock, wanting to feel him so bad, but before he knew it there were hands on his wrists, slamming them down into the mattress on either side of his shoulders.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Tim panted, his heart and his mind racing.

Harvey silenced his encouraging moan, drinking it from his lips. This wasn’t like any of the women Tim had been with. There was something about being with someone older and stronger... the threat of being overpowered was turning him on so much he didn’t even know how to deal with it.

“You like stronger guys?” Harvey’s fingers tightened around Tim’s wrists.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tim hissed through his teeth. When Harvey said he knew him, he was right. He strained against the man’s grasp, testing him. The man was applying his strength. It was more than a gesture.

“Yeah?” Harvey dipped his head and flattened his wet tongue against Tim’s clavicle, dragging it all the way up his neck to his earlobe, which he tugged at gently with his teeth. “You want me to hold you down? Give it to you real hard? Make you my fucktoy?” Harvey’s smile was audible.

Tim laughed, bordering on a hysterical implosion. “Holy shit, Harvey. Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” He strained against Harvey’s grip again but it was no good, so he pushed his hips up, nudging the other man’s cock with his own. “Hell yes.”

“Too bad.” Harvey touched his nose to Tim’s and grinned. “I’m gonna give it to you so sweet and so slow that you’re gonna lose your mind.”

“Too late.” He wanted to be disappointed but Harvey made everything sound good. “You asshole.” He would take anything the man was willing to give.

“Tell me your name, babe.”

Tim laughed. “You know my name.” He wrapped his legs around Harvey’s, locking his ankles.

“I know, but I want you to tell me.”

Tim tried to lift his head for a kiss but Harvey pulled back with a grin, just a little out of his reach. The guy was having fun with this. “You know that it’s Tim.”

Harvey gave him a nod and pressed a kiss to Tim’s neck. “What’s your other name?”

“Umm...” Tim didn’t understand this game but he was still enjoying it. “Orange?”

“Mhm.” Harvey moved his lips to the other side of Tim’s neck. “And what’s your other name?”

Tim’s brain wasn’t interested in being any part of this, but a few thoughts were still racing around through the shorted circuits. The only other name Harvey could have been referring to was Freddy, but... “I feel like I’m not supposed to tell you that,” he confessed. It was confusing. When they talked about their characters, he always called himself ‘Orange’ and almost never spoke the name ‘Freddy’.

“It’s okay, you can tell,” Harvey assured him. “I’m not Larry, I’m me.”

Tim brushed his lips against Harvey’s. “But you look just like him,” he teased, although there was truth in it. Why was it so hard to confess? It wasn’t Tim’s secret identity, and even if he had one he wouldn’t keep it from Harvey.

“Tell me,” Harvey whispered against his lips. “Come on... tell me. Just tell me.”

Tim was overcome by both hesitation and arousal, but he had nothing to lose by giving Harvey what he wanted. “It’s Freddy.” It felt so strange to say it. Strange, but good.

He was rewarded by a deep, slow kiss. Harvey let go of one of his wrists. Tim immediately ran his fingers through the man’s hair and locked his hand behind his neck, keeping him close. It shouldn’t have felt so cathartic, giving the man a fictional name that he already knew.

Harvey pulled out of the kiss. “Which name do you want me to use?”

“Seriously?” Tim thought it should have been obvious – his own – but he hadn’t really been feeling like himself lately. Nobody had ever given him the option of being someone else in bed before. This could not have been healthy. Was it a test? Shit, maybe this whole thing was some kind of initiation into the elite cult of method actors. Tim almost laughed at the thought. “I don’t know...”

“Think about it.” Harvey pushed himself back up onto his knees and unhooked Tim’s legs from his. “Roll over.”

Harvey didn’t give Tim the chance to comply, flipping him onto his stomach with his hands at his ankle and hip. He really was strong, and Tim really did want him to use it. It seemed like a waste not to.

Lips and tongue between his shoulder blades made him shiver. When Tim felt Harvey’s warm, firm cock pressing against his ass he groaned hard into his pillow, the needy ache in his belly clenching like a fist.

“When’s the last time you got fucked by a guy?” Harvey straddled the backs of Tim’s thighs and ran his hands up and down his back and shoulders, before finally landing on his ass, grabbing kneading a handful of flesh.

“Not recently,” Tim answered quickly. “But I’ve dated some pretty liberal chicks.”

Harvey laughed in sincere amusement and pat his ass affectionately. “That’s cute, but it’s not the same.”

No, it wasn’t the same.

“But you’ve done this before?” Harvey slid his thumb between Tim’s buttocks and rubbed his hole.

Tim’s cock throbbed against the mattress. “Yeah, but I’m not telling you about it.”

“You like it?”

He didn’t know why Harvey was so reluctant to be convinced that he was okay with this. Tim nodded, but it wasn’t a matter of liking it. It was a matter of _needing_ it. Sex distilled everything into one clear time and place that he really existed in. Being fucked, feeling another person inside him, the pain and satisfaction... that’s what he was most desperate for. He tried to push his hips up and spread his legs open, but Harvey had him pinned in place, leisurely thumbing the rim of his hole.

Tim groaned in frustration and arousal, but then he felt Harvey’s thick, rough fingers nudging at his lips. He turned his head and gratefully accepted them into his mouth, running his tongue between and around them, generously coating the fingers with saliva, ready to feel them press into the tight muscle between his legs.

Harvey pulled his fingers out from between Tim’s eager lips with a wet smack, but instead of sliding his slick fingers into the his ass, Harvey shifted his body further down Tim’s legs, pulled his hips up higher, and reached around to swipe the saliva all over his hard cock.

Tim twisted his fist into the pillow and moaned while Harvey spread his spit and precome around his hard cock before he started pumping him, slow and steady.

“Fuck...” Tim rocked his hips against the hand, trying to get more friction. He wanted Harvey to get closer, frustrated by the air against his bare ass. “If you don’t fuckin fuck me, I swear I’m gonna go fuckin mental...”

“Let’s see you go mental.”

He twisted around, about to protest, but Harvey let go of Tim’s cock and caught his chin with wet fingers.

“Kidding,” Harvey whispered before kissing him and stuffing his face back down into the pillow.

Tim sighed, trying to be patient. His lips were still humming from the kiss. Every touch left a deep impression. A part of him must have known that this wouldn’t happen twice, so his body savoured everything.

When those warm lips moved to the back of his neck and it almost angered him the way that such a gentle touch could drag such immense feelings out of him. Every inch of his body was throbbing with anticipation as those lips traced down his spine. Around the time a barely-stubbled chin brushed just above Tim’s tailbone, Harvey wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him up onto his knees.

The shock of a wet tongue sliding between his buttocks pulled a short, startled cry from Tim’s lips, muffled into the pillow. Christ, he was not expecting that, and it had been a long time since he’d experienced it. His legs began to shudder, and immediately two strong hands wrapped around his thighs and held him steady.

“Do you like that?” It was a frank question.

How could he _not_ like it? “Yeah,” Tim quickly panted, pushing himself up onto his elbows and arching his back.

Harvey was generous with his lips, tongue and saliva, delivering long, slow laps of his tongue, massaging Tim's thighs with needy hands. Every time the tip of his tongue prodded gently at his hole, Tim’s dick twitched, aching for some attention, but he didn’t touch himself... he was too turned on and he was afraid to end it. The soft, wet heat of Harvey’s tongue wiggling around his asshole was almost enough to get him off as it was. After a minute or so he lost any sense of the modesty he was still clinging to and couldn’t help but to push himself back against Harvey’s mouth. The man’s hands responded by pulling him even closer, fingertips digging almost painfully into his flesh and he really fucking hoped that it would bruise. That eager tongue threatened to slide into his body at any moment, but he held off with persistent, relentless teasing.

Tim didn’t even realize he was holding his breath behind clenched teeth until his head started spinning. When he let go, he couldn’t keep his desperate pleas down. Whimpers and curses and moans streamed form his lips, eyes squeezed shut, fists twisting into the sheets, raw pleasure searing through his veins with every swipe of the tongue working behind him. It wasn’t just what he was doing, but that _he_ was doing it. The man had been casually touching him on a regular basis over the past few weeks, and Tim was always subtly leaning in for more. Now that it seemed they couldn’t possibly get any closer, he was still desperate and aching for as much as he could get.

“Come on, come on...” Tim reached back frantically and tore Harvey’s fingers from one of his thighs, tugging at his hand. “Fuck me. I want your dick.” His own voice sounded so completely foreign. As usual, Harvey was getting him to say and do things he didn’t even know he had in him.

Harvey’s hand pulled free of Tim’s and moved it around to grab his aching cock again, lips turning to the flesh of his buttocks, licking and sucking. Finally, he placed one more kiss at the small of his back, and sat up.

“Grab some lube.”

Tim reached for his bedside table. Lubrication was honestly the main reason he’d opted for home instead of his trailer. At first he couldn’t find what he was looking for in the dark so he had to crawl out of Harvey’s grasp to dig through the back of the drawer. He was relieved when his fingers curled around the plastic bottle – not that it would have stopped him if he couldn’t find it – and just to be on the safe side, he grabbed a condom.

He turned back to Harvey, shoved the accoutrements into his palm, and crawled onto his lap. Two broad arms closed around him as he kissed and licked the man’s neck, careful not to leave any marks above the collarbone, despite the fact that they had a makeup artist on set. Rubbing his nose beneath his jaw, the smell of Harvey’s aftershave was sharp and familiar. Tim prayed that it wouldn’t give him a hard-on the next day while he was lying on that ramp with him, sticky and exhausted... Would people be able to tell that something was different? Quentin’s enthusiasm was bottomless. He would probably love it.

Tim heard the cap of the lube pop and bit his lip in anticipation.

“So what do you want me to call you?” Harvey worked his slippery fingers around Tim’s cock for a few seconds before reaching down to tease his balls.

Tim shook his head, blinking. Fuck. He was really supposed to have been thinking about that? “Freddy,” he heard himself decide automatically. It was probably the wrong answer, but given the option to go by another name, an imaginary version of himself that he could relate to at the very least, he accepted the opportunity. Maybe it was a self-esteem thing. He didn’t care why it felt right. It turned him on, like he was sharing a secret. He would have asked what Harvey wanted to be called but he really didn’t have much control over what he heard coming out of his mouth at that point so it probably didn’t matter.

He pressed his forehead to Harvey’s and sighed as he felt his thighs being coaxed apart. The fingers massaging his balls moved lower, rubbing is perineum, tugging a desperate whine from his lips. With one smooth, easy movement, Harvey slid a finger back and up, pressing past the tight muscle where it nudged into his body.

With his breath caught in his throat, all Tim could do was touch his lips to Harvey’s face and dig his fingers into his shoulders, his body quietly pleading for more. It was so dark in the little room – too dark – and he was desperate to see the expression on Harvey’s face that he could barely make out.

“This okay?” Harvey’s lips moved against his cheek as he pressed his finger in deeper.

Tim nodded. He couldn’t speak. Instead, he blindly pat his hand around the mattress until he found the lube, flipped the cap again, and squirted a generous portion onto Harvey’s lap, pretty certain that most of it hit his thigh and abdomen but he didn’t really care. He dropped the bottle and wiped up some of the mess with his hand. Finally, he took Harvey’s solid cock into his palm, loving the way it twitched and swelled in his grip. When Harvey moved his finger, Tim moved his hand. A dry, satisfied groan broke from Harvey’s mouth, and Tim swallowed it, sucking his tongue into his mouth.

“Please,” Tim heard himself beg shamelessly when Harvey slipped his finger out. Everything ached. He needed to feel the other man to drown out the unbearable sensations under his own skin.

Harvey’s hands were at his hips suddenly, pushing him onto his back. He kissed him deep and rough on the mouth, then rolled him onto his stomach again. He felt like a toy being pushed and pulled and embraced so effortlessly, and he liked that. He liked being so totally in Harvey’s hands. A lot of the time when he was in bed with someone he felt the need to perform, to make all the right moves, to impress. But now, for some reason, just being in the moment felt like enough.

Harvey’s hands ran up and down his back and his ass, drinking up his skin. One hand left for a few seconds and he felt the wet trickle of jelly between his buttocks again. It was more than they needed, but he appreciated the consideration. For all his tough talk, Harvey was a hopelessly nurturing human being. His fingers were rough and calloused, but his touch was careful. He heard the condom wrapper tear and he clenched his teeth in agonized anticipation.

“It sorta kills me, seeing you in pain all day, every day. You’re too damn good at your job. It gets to me,” Harvey admitted, pushing Tim’s legs apart with his knees. “But I gotta admit... sometimes I like the way you moan...” Harvey rubbed his index finger up and down between Tim’s buttocks and pressed it inside effortlessly, coated with lube.

Tim let out a sound that he couldn’t have held in if he tried, giving Harvey exactly what he wanted, unable to do anything to the contrary. The finger inside him twisted and pressed down against his prostate, making everything clench up, like his muscles wanted to trap that sensation and not let it go. “Just fuck me, for fuck’s sake,” Tim groaned, grinding his dick against the mattress. “You’re killing me.”

“You’re too tight,” Harvey sounded calm, but eager. “I wanna loosen you up first.”

“Can’t you do that with your dick?”

A whisper of a relaxed chuckle made Tim smile, but when a second finger pushed into his body next to the first, his jaw slackened. He could feel the stretch as the muscles in his body fluttered a little, trying to accommodate the wide fingers. It only stung for a second. Harvey took a few minutes to work him open nice and easy, just like he’d promised. Tim didn’t know that Harvey hadn’t given him the whole length of his fingers until the man’s free hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, anchoring him while he pressed in all the way to the knuckles.

Tim whined, his voice distorting a little in his throat with his head tipped back. He didn’t mind that the hand in his hair was streaked with saliva, precome and lube. He liked it. A lot. He reached back behind him to make more contact, dying to feel the man’s hard cock in his grip again, but all his fingers could find was the wrist attached to the fingers in his ass. With trembling, curious fingers he blindly ran along Harvey’s hand to where he felt his body stretched around the base of his knuckles. He traced his own tight rim with his fingers, barely recognizing the way his own body felt under his touch while Harvey kept his fingers patiently buried deep inside him.

Harvey let go of Tim’s hair and took the wandering hand into his own, pressing it into the mattress, lacing their fingers together. He only pinned him there a moment before he moved that hand to Tim’s knee, bending it up against the mattress as he turned him onto his side and settled against his back. Tim's body was putty, helplessly malleable and eager to be touched.

“You have no idea...” Tim was almost beyond speaking, his throat closing around a whimper when the fingers inside him withdrew.

“I have some idea,” Harvey replied softly, bending his knee and lining up the front of his thigh with the back of Tim’s.

“Fuck me.”

Harvey pushed his hips against Tim’s. The hard, latex-clad cock siding against the cleft of his ass almost made him want to cry. He felt drunk, desperate, electric, and a little surreal. Harvey’s knuckles grazed his ass again as he slowly guided the tip of his cock against him, pushing slowly and carefully until Tim’s body gave in.

Tim gasped and choked out a sob, his muscles tightening up momentarily but easing back again when a strong, steady arm wrapped him up and pulled him close. Harvey’s breath was hot against the back of his neck, his lips soothing the erratic pulse coursing beneath them.

“Keep going,” Tim breathed, closing his eyes.

The hand against his chest hooked over his shoulder, pulling him down while Harvey thrust his cock up all the way inside him.

__

“Fuck—“

“God—“

“That’s good—“

“So hot—“

“Yeah—“

“That’s right.”

Their voices couldn’t have been more different, but at that moment they were indistinguishable.

Even though a haze of surreal bliss, Tim felt more alert, present and alive than he had in a really long time. He felt real. He could feel everything, every part of himself, inside and out. And he could feel Harvey.

Harvey groaned deeply into Tim’s shoulder and reached down and hold his dick.

“Careful, I’m close,” Tim warned, his barely able to form words, the simple brush of the man’s fingertips practically sending him over.

“You want me to be careful?”

“No.” Harvey had a way of making him hear himself. Tim wanted him to be totally fucking reckless. He wanted to feel him for weeks after this.

“You feel so goddamn good,” Harvey said as he pulled out, both of them groaning hard as he slid back in.

“Oh god,” Tim whimpered as the other man struck up a rhythm, moving inside him and stroking his cock. “Please – don’t stop...” He felt like he couldn’t take anymore, but he wanted to know where his breaking point was.

“I’m not gonna stop till you scream, Freddy.” His fist tightened around Tim’s cock. “I wanna hear you scream for me.”

Damn, there it was. He got a bit of a rush hearing that name. It was like Harvey reached into his mind and pulled out something private that didn’t belong to him, even though Tim wanted him to have it. He felt exposed, known, turned totally inside out. And the name suited him.

Tim turned his head, twisting around and touching Harvey’s face, bringing him into a deep and hungry kiss. A moan vibrated against his tongue, and just knowing that he could make Harvey feel good almost put him over the edge. He kissed him harder, deeper, using his teeth, trying to set the pace, until finally he began to chip away at the other man’s restraint, bridging the gap between how his lover felt he should treat him and his base instincts to fuck, use, take.

Harvey broke the kiss with a strained moan, thrusting harder (but not too hard) and stroking faster (but not too fast). “You’re so...”

“What?” Tight? Quiet? Impatient? Tim could hardly breathe. The sting, ache and throbbing pleasure were overwhelming, not to mention the immeasurable satisfaction of bringing Harvey to speechlessness.

“So goddamn beautiful.”

Once the words sank in, Tim turned his face into the pillow again, his guts knotting up and his chest tightening. After ten or so years of being evaluated by total strangers, being reminded time and time again that he was too much of something and not enough of something else for the camera, it was hard to take a compliment. ‘Sexy’ he could almost figure out how to handle, but ‘beautiful’ was a fucking fabrication. But something nagging inside told him that maybe there was a possibility that Harvey really might have somehow believed it.

Harvey pressed his forehead to the back of Tim’s shoulder. “You’re so good,” he whispered. “Are you gonna come for me?”

Tim felt himself rushing towards a climax at the very words, unable to resist Harvey’s suggestion, but he tried desperately to hold on a little longer. “Yes,” he whined. Desperate to grab on and hold something, he pulled his pillow from under his head and into his arms, against his chest. He buried his face and his fingers into the bag of foam.

When he felt the pillow being eased out of his white-knuckled grip he was reluctant to give it up at first, but then Harvey let go of his cock to hook his hand under Tim’s knee and carefully eased him around onto his back, never withdrawing, until he had both legs hooked over his shoulders. Tim gratefully wrapped his arms around Harvey’s back, letting the man fold him in half, and pressed his face into the his firm, broad shoulder.

“Come on, Freddy,” Harvey coaxed, returning his hand to his cock, with more purpose this time. “It’s easy to let it go.” He pressed his nose into Tim’s hair. “I can fuck you all night if you want me to, but you’ve been holding on too long. I can feel it.”

Tim dropped his head back against the pillow, holding down a sob, completely helpless. He clenched his teeth and curled his toes, trying not to let himself fall apart. He wanted to be angry with Harvey for pretending to know what he needed, but he did know. He knew everything. He was really inside him.

“Oh god, don’t – please – yes—“ Tim stammered, panting, refusing to give in, dying to draw it out just a little longer. He wanted to take it rough, nasty, mean... totally unprepared for this man to reframe what being fucked was supposed to feel like. This was slow, even, deliberate, controlled. It felt too good, and it made him hate that he’d convinced himself that there was only one way to enjoy it.

Harvey pressed a kiss to Tim’s cheekbone. “You okay?”

Tim nodded. “I’m... I...”

A few sparks of pleasure shot through his belly, sending currents trough his veins, and he was just too weak to hold on. His hands moved desperately to grab on to the other man anywhere he could. His balls tightened, his ass clamping down hard around Harvey’s thick cock, and for a few seconds he couldn’t breathe. He cried out, hard and desperate, and all it took was a soft, easy kiss to muffle his voice and nudge him right over the edge. Harvey fucked him slow and steady through his climax. He heard himself sobbing and moaning through his nose against the man’s cheek, shaking as the ecstasy rushed through him, vaguely aware of his come shooting onto his chest, swimming in the entire sensation until he slowly sank to the bottom of it and felt it all roll out like a tide. He was fuckin’ beached, and all he could think was:

_Yes. Finally._

Harvey reluctantly broke the kiss and began to slow his thrusts, but Tim put his hands on the back of the man’s thighs. “Keep going,” he told him, his voice cracked and raw.

Harvey let go of Tim’s fading erection to brace his hand on the mattress, moving his relatively clean one to cup Tim’s face. Harvey dropped is head and kissed Tim’s throat, stroking his hair. Now that every muscle in Tim’s body had liquefied, he felt totally open and Harvey’s thrusts felt deeper. He never stopped kissing him or stroking his hair, whispering a few appreciative, loving words in his ear, but it was all a fog for Tim. He just opened himself to his lover’s affection, enjoying his body... the way his muscles contracted underneath his fingers, the way his voice was so familiar but so new, the way his warm breaths became more laboured and uneven as he inched towards a climax.

“Ah, Freddy—“

“Tim,” he whispered, giving himself up, getting high on the reality of his existence.

“That’s right. I know you, Tim. I’ve gotcha...”

If he hadn’t already been spent, hearing his name on his lover’s tongue with such care and pleasure would have done it. Harvey sank into Tim’s raw body a few more times before he groaned hard against his neck, a few curses bleeding from his lips as his climax gripped him. Tim held him tight while he came, the man in his arms hardening all over, dick twitching deep inside, voice straining, until finally his entire body began to weaken and soften again.

Harvey’s chest was heaving against Tim’s, their hearts drumming violently against one another. He seemed to catch himself giving Tim his weight and unhooked his ankles from his shoulders, sitting back with a deep, cathartic sigh.

Tim just lay there, legs splayed open, half of Harvey’s softening cock still inside him, blood hot and alive in his veins. As Harvey’s soothing hands stroked his thighs and his chest, sliding through the come on his skin, Tim could barely move. He had just enough strength to slip the pillowcase off his pillow and toss it at Harvey. There was no way he was walking all the way to the shower now. He was done.

Harvey half-grinned at Tim’s laziness, or perhaps his thriftiness, and mopped up the fluid from his chest with the pillowcase. Tim lay there like a banana peel, limp and useless, letting him do everything. Then, with a steady hand on his hip, Harvey carefully withdrew and wiped the excess lube away from both of them, then dried his hands and unrolled the condom.

Tim’s body contracted a little when he was empty, but he could still feel the deep impression and the satisfactory ache that would be gone by morning. He gestured for Harvey to hand him the condom, then rolled over and dropped it into the waste bin by his bed. Then he took the damp pillowcase, gently dried Harvey’s cock with it, and tossed it into the same bin.

Tim relaxed onto his back and Harvey eased onto the bed next to him with a deep sigh. They were both still for a moment, the real question of what was supposed to happen next finally starting to sink in, but when Tim grazed his knuckles against Harvey’s ribs absent-mindedly, the man took his wrist and pulled him into an embrace. All consideration for the future disappeared.

Tim yawned against Harvey’s chest, a soothing hand in his hair stroking gently and an arm tightening around his waist. This felt normal. He knew what it felt like to be held by the man, regardless of whether or not they were usually naked while it was happening.

“Wanna stay over?” Tim offered, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Harvey sighed reluctantly. “Early call. I don’t think I’ll have much time to get to my place and back to set in the morning. I should probably go...”

Tim nodded, feeling a little foolish for asking. It was kinda inappropriate. He tried to peel himself off the man’s chest, but Harvey’s arm tightened around his waist, and the hand in his hair slipped down around the back of his neck.

“But Lawrence is on set tomorrow,” he amended, stroking Tim’s neck with his thumb. “So you and I can probably add four hours onto that call time.”

Tim closed his eyes, exhaled, and let the rise and fall of Harvey’s chest lull him to the edge of sleep. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Me too, kiddo.”


End file.
